Tag Archives: self

A startled rat shattered my reflection.

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I find a lot of comfort in dumpsters. Whether it comes from the delicious sauces I find inside of them or the comfortable old chunks of rubber and cardboard I find outside of them, dumpsters provide a miraculous world of easy living and sauces. It is why I am always seeking new dumpsters or revisiting old ones. They are comfortable and nice, even when they are filled with other forest creatures seeking refuge and sauces.

I recently found something very strange and unfamiliar to me in a dumpster: my reflection. I have seen my me before in the river and shiny things I find around the forest, but never had I seen my me so clearly and pronounced as I had in this reflection. It was strange to see my me in such clear detail. I noticed the individual little hairs that made up my fur and the tiny splashes of dumpster sauces that kept bits of my fur knotted together. I could see the tiny holes that covered my nose and the glistening wetness that made it shine. My eyes were big and dark and looked infinite in their depth. My ears were fuzzy, which was nice to see.

I then noticed the expression on my bear face, made up by my bear nose and bear mouth and bear eyes and even my excellently fuzzy ears. My expression was much sadder looking than I felt. Did I always look like that? Did I walk around the forest carrying such an empty and downtrodden expression? Is this how other forest creatures see me all the time? Even trees? Do trees see me like this all the time?

Before I could explore my expression further, the me I was staring at shattered into countless pieces, making countless little mes scattered around the dumpster. It was a rat, creatures who frequently spend time in dumpsters. The rat must have been startled and then knocked my me reflection over. The rat knocked me out of my self obsessed reflection thinking and I went back to looking for more sauces in the dumpster, but for the rest of the day I could not stop thinking of my expression. How it did not represent how I felt. How it made me wonder if the bear I think I am matches up to the bear I appear to be. How I am not even sure if it matters if those things match. And how if it does matter, there does not seem to be much I can do about it.

I did, however, find a very interesting green sauce. It was spicy and left me very thirsty.

I am a bear.

If you would like to try being a bear, why not read some of the bear adventures available on this very site? The newest adventure is all about safety!

For any questions or comments directed at Bear, feel free to write to him using this email: justasinglebear@gmail.com

You can also now use Tumblr to address questions to Bear. Also, you can find bear photos and such on Bear’s Instagram, and don’t forget to “like” Bear on Facebook.

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Please do not tell me if I am not a bear.

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deer bear (2)

As far as I know and for as long as I have been able to know things, I have been a bear. I have molded just about every aspect of my life out of my understanding of my own bearness, so everything about all of me reflects what I think being a bear means.

So I hope I am a bear.

When I really try to think about or feel my bearness, I do not have any doubts that I am what I have always claimed to be: a bear. However, there is a large, resting doubt sitting beneath any of the confidence I have ever been able to muster when it comes to my being a bear. What if, to the rest of the forest’s understanding, I am not a bear? What if my understanding of what a bear is or what a bear is supposed to be is not correct?

I have tried to convince myself that, even if such a line of thinking is not true, it does not matter. If I know I am a bear, then I must be a bear. End of story. Yet, that does little in the way of easing the lingering questions and doubts. They persist, ever gnawing at my identity like I would gnaw a moldy branch I found under some leaves.

If you, or anybody for that matter, know that I am not a bear, please do not tell me. I have given this a lot of thought, and the mere idea of confirming my non-bearness is so incredibly unnerving to me that I truly believe ignorance would be a better course of action.

I do not need to know if I am not a bear. There is so little to gain from that knowledge yet so much to lose. If I stop being a bear, I have no idea how I will begin to understand me or my interactions with everything ever. These issues are already difficult to process even when I feel firmly about being a bear, so the stress and anxiety that would come with having to reconsider all of being me would be far too much, an overload of everythingness.

What would I gain from knowing that I am not a bear, though? Would I not just question the validity of being a different thing just as frequently and with just as much intensity? What if I am something that I do not like or want to be? What if I am a deer across the river or dirt? I would prefer to be dirt, but either way, what would I get out of knowing something like that? What would anyone get knowing something like that?

I would prefer to stay in the dark. I would prefer to keep being who I think I am rather than what I might actually be, even if it means ignoring the latter completely.

I am a bear.

If you would like to try being a bear, why not read some of the bear adventures available on this very site? 

For any questions or comments directed at Bear, feel free to write to him using this email: justasinglebear@gmail.com

You can also now use Tumblr to address questions to Bear. Also, you can find bear photos and such on Bear’s Instagram, and don’t forget to “like” Bear on the book of faces.